Crawling
by OrcaTimes
Summary: Sara turns to Nick in the aftermath of a terrible attack that has left her feeling vulnerable. Together, they try to solve the crime without any of the others discovering her secret. M and TW for rape, and general dark themes. On hiatus.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello my lovely chickpeas. I hope you're all well.  
I'm back with another potentially disturbing story to tell, but it's not going to be pure angst- I promise that there will be some good along the way! It's named after 'Crawling' by Linkin Park, I thought the lyrics kind of fitted but it's not a song fic.  
I was spending all this time trying to get inside Sara's head when I realised that we are alike enough that perhaps I don't particularly need to. She's far more intelligent than I -my chemistry marks at school would tell you that- but we both have our demons, we both work far too much and enjoy life far too little, and we're both headstrong, I think. Maybe that's why I've always loved her character so much. Which CSI do you guys identify with the most?  
Anyway, enough chit-chat. I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

Her body was a crime scene. Every stray hair, every molecule of DNA, every foreign substance that lingered on her skin could be taken as evidence and processed. She imagined that she could feel the weight of it on her flesh, prickling in that way that one does in uncomfortably warm temperatures. For now, at least, she allowed herself to be weighed down. She had only moved once since it was over, and that was to fetch her cell phone, kicked several feet away by her attacker when she had frantically attempted to use it.

She was injured, but not badly- at least, not fatally. He had struck her over the back of the head and kicked at her ribs to neutralise her, and restrained her wrists in his strong hands. She had fought back, spat right in his dull, watery eyes and clawed at his arms, so he had punched her in the face for good measure. She had plenty of contusions, and a few minor lacerations, the worst of which just under her jaw when she had fallen to the ground. It didn't seem to be a deep cut, but it was still bleeding.

The physical pain didn't seem to matter much at this point. She was sore, her right eye throbbing from the punch he had thrown and the pain in her ribs so sharp that she presumed one of her ribs was cracked- but all of this seemed to have been swallowed up in the big black hole that had taken hold in her abdomen and was now, slowly, engulfing the rest of her. She felt numb with cold and shock. She wanted to be home, she wanted to sleep, and most of all she wanted to shower. To be submerged into a large body of water and sink to the bottom, where she might hope to be claimed by the water and drown. But it wasn't an option. Whether she drowned or not, washing herself could -and likely would- destroy any evidence on her crime scene body, and she would never know. She could never rationalise it if she did not know.

Sara could not decide who to contact. If she had been thinking straight, she would have phoned 911 and the whole LVPD criminalistic squad would have been called out. Sara would be taken to the nearest ED, or a Sexual Assault Referral Centre maybe, and the team would have processed the abandoned car park that she was currently sitting in.  
Only, Sara was not thinking straight- or perhaps she was; who can tell in what moments one assumes total mental clarity?  
She didn't want the whole team there, in such a private moment. She wanted Grissom, for quiet comfort and logical words. She wanted Catherine, for the element of privacy that being with another woman might bring. She wanted Warrick for his cool and easygoing persona. But she had decided, at this point, that it wasn't what she _wanted_ that mattered. It was what she _needed_.

* * *

Nick was already halfway to work when he received the phone call. He raised his eyebrows at the caller ID, but unperturbed flicked his cell open.

"Nick Stokes?" It was a question more than a statement. He heard a soft exhale of breath on the other end of the line.

"I... I wasn't sure if you'd be at work already." Sara's voice was quiet, tremulous almost. There was a note of forced nonchalance. The hair on the back of Nick's neck seemed to instantaneously stand on end, as though an alarm had been triggered.

"Sar? Where are you?" There was a moment of silence.

"Parking lot, off route 95 I think. I'm not sure." Stokes raised his eyebrows again.

"What're you doing in a parking lot, Sara? Have you been hurt? Are you safe?" The concern was now evident in his tone, akin to a simmering pot that could bubble over into panic at any moment. "Can you send me the map co-ordinates?"

"I'm safe. I'll send them. I- I'll send them now." Nick nodded as though his friend could see him through the phone lines.

"Have you been hurt?" He asked again. "I could call a medic...?"

"Yes," Came the whisper, so fragile that Nick imagined the words dissolving in front of him. His heart seemed to be pounding like a bass drum, and his blood felt frozen in his veins. "And no. No one else, just you. Please hurry." He started to ask her something else, but before he could form any words the line was disconnected. His cell buzzed with the incoming co-ordinates, as promised, but Sara refused to answer any of his other calls, leaving them all to go to voicemail. What could have happened, he wondered as he sped towards route 95, that could make Sara sound so... Shattered?

* * *

Nick pulled up in the parking lot about forty minutes later, pulling the keys from the ignition as he switched the engine off and looking around as he opened the car door to stand. It was dark -the parking lot seemed a little lacking in the lighting department- but as his eyes adjusted he noticed a shadow slumped against the half-wall surrounding most of the lot. It was hard not to run to her side, but even from the distance that separated the two, he could tell that she was frightened. He walked, as calmly as he could, towards her.  
When he was five feet away, he came to a sudden halt. It felt as though his heart had dropped through the pit of his stomach. His eyes swept over the blood still oozing from cuts under her chin and over one of her eyes, the bruising around her neck, the tear in her shirt. He didn't ask what had happened. He didn't need to.  
Edging closer, he dropped to his knees and lifted her chin to look at the cut. Sara let him. Turning her head, he studied it for a few seconds.

"Might need stitches there, honey." He spoke softly to disguise the break in his voice. Pulling a packet of tissues from his pocket, he extracted one and held it against the cut to stem the flow of blood. Sara didn't so much as wince, just stared straight ahead at a point somewhere beyond Nick's shoulder. He shifted his legs so he could sit more comfortably, and let the silence expand for a few minutes until the bleeding had all but stopped, before he spoke again. "Can you stand?" This seemed to awaken Sara from her reverie. She gave a tiny nod, speaking for the first time.

"Yes, but I don't want to. Not yet." Nick understood. Here, in this moment, she could be numb, immune to the crushing ache of the trauma she had just suffered. There was no harm, he told himself, in sitting here for a few more minutes.

"Okay, Sar. And then I'll drive you to the hospital, and you can get those cuts seen to." Her eyes settled on his for a moment, and he felt he knew why.

"And after that?" She asked, speaking so quietly that she was almost inaudible. He knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her that he was taking her straight to the SARC, where they would perform a rape kit to collect evidence that might track down the bastard who did this to her and bring him to justice. But he didn't say it. Sara needed to regain some control right now, not be further stripped of it. He fought to keep his face impassive.

"We'll do whatever you feel you can, sweetie. Alright?" Their eyes met again, for just a second, before Sara looked away.

"Okay. I think I want-" A tinge of blush crept up Sara's cheeks as she tried to speak. "I think I want to be processed, Nick. I think I can do that." Nick tried to smile as her, the warmest smile he could muster.

"There's my girl." For a split second, the corners of Sara's mouth seemed to twitch. She looked at him, properly looked at him, for the first time since he had come for her.

"I'm ready to stand up. But I- I think I'll need help." Nick pushed himself up into a crouching position, arms outstretched towards her. She grasped at him, and he wrapped his fingers cautiously around her elbows for support, noticing the ligature marks on her wrists for the first time and shuddering internally.  
The walk to the car was slow. Sara was shuffling, her face screwed up in pain. The hand that wasn't clenching Nick was resting gently on her ribcage, giving him the suspicion that she had a couple of cracked ones in there.

"You wanna lie down in the back?" He asked as they drew near. Sara winced at his words as though he had struck her.

"No, no, I can sit. I think I can sit. I just need help getting in." He opened the passenger door, and took hold of her hands as she lowered herself into the seat. Reaching around her trembling body, he buckled her seatbelt. She was watching him as he did so, taking such care to ensure he didn't hurt her further. He gave her another of his characteristic smiles, and shut the car door, pretending not to see the twin tear tracks that stained her cheeks.

* * *

Nick drove Sara straight into the Emergency Department at Desert Palm Hospital. He helped her to lower herself into a plastic chair, and joined the queue in front of the reception desk. The ED didn't seem overly busy -just the usual Vegas influx- but Nick felt it important that Sara soon get some privacy all the same.

"Can I help you?" The receptionist gave Nick a searching glance as he approached the desk, and he was suddenly acutely aware of the blood on his hands. He tried to smile.

"Nick Stokes, Vegas Crime Lab," He introduced himself. "My friend over there, Sara, was attacked tonight. I think she has some injuries, and," He lowered his voice, leaning closer to the receptionist so as not to be overheard. "We need to see a SAE." Nick knew from experience through work that a Sexual Assault Examiner, a professional trained in forensic collection in cases of assault or rape, was who was needed if Sara went ahead with wanting to be processed. The receptionist's eyes flitted over Nick's shoulder and rested on Sara, who was sitting statue-like, immovable as stone.

"I'll get someone to take you straight through to cubicles. In the mean time-" She handed Nick a clipboard and a pen. "Fill these out, and give them to the doctor. They'll want to treat physical injuries first." Nick thanked the woman, and crossed the department to sit beside Sara again. She looked down at the clipboard as he began to fill out the form with all the information he knew about her- name, date of birth, address.

"Any past surgeries, Sar?" She nodded, shifting slowly closer to him until their shoulders were touching.

"I had metal pins in my arm when I was six. And an appendectomy at fifteen." Nick scribbled her answers down, as a doctor approached them. He was relieved that they'd thought to give her a female consultant, who he estimated to be around the same age as the two of them.

"Are you Sara?" She asked gently, crouching down to be at their eye level. Sara nodded, and the doctor smiled warmly. She introduced herself as Doctor Selena March, a consultant and Sexual Assault Examiner, and bade them follow her down the corridor.

"Want me to come, honey?" Nick asked, as Sara curled her fingers around his. He squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"Please. I don't think I can be by myself."

"Then I'm not going anywhere," He said firmly, helping his friend to her feet. She gasped at the pain in her ribs, but made no complaint as the two of them moved to follow the doctor.

Doctor March took photographs of the cuts on Sara's face before she cleaned them with saline solution and stitched them. She examined the bruising around Sara's eye socket, and the marks around her wrists, documenting all of them with her camera. She then took X-Rays of her ribcage, showing the results to Nick and Sara.

"You have three fractures, ribs six, seven, and eight. But there's a number of healed breaks," She indicated to a few shadows on the X-Ray. "Have you broken your ribs before?" Nick's eyebrows furrowed in concern and confusion. Sara looked away from them both.

"My father used to hit me," She said quietly. Nick felt an overwhelming surge of love and pity for her at that moment. Sara was like family to him, and it pained him that she had been through so much trauma in her life.

"I see." Doctor March slid the X-Ray into a file, and turned away. "I'll prescribe you some pain relief, but they should heal in their own time." Sara nodded.

"Yeah, I know." Her voice had an edge of bitterness to it. The doctor pulled up a stool, and briefly read through the questions the receptionist had given Nick.

"You're a criminalist?" She asked, looking up at Sara.

"We both are," Nick spoke for her. "Vegas Crime Lab." March nodded.

"Then," Her tone was gentle again. "You know what will happen, if you decide to have an examination here today?" Sara's cheeks flushed pink again. She nodded, not making eye contact with either her doctor or Nick.

"Yes." She whispered.

"Do you want to proceed?" There was a moment's pause.

"I think so." Sara looked up at Nick, standing by her hospital bed, and tried to give her a reassuring smile.

"Okay then. But if at any time you don't feel comfortable, you just let me know and we'll stop. Do you understand?" She nodded, and grasped hold of Nick's hand again.

"Can he stay?" She asked suddenly. Nick was taken aback. He had assumed that Sara would find it too embarrassing for him to be present during the examination, but apparently he had been wrong. Perhaps her wish for him not to leave her alone overwhelmed any embarrassment she might feel. Doctor March studied Nick for a moment.

"Yes, he can stay. Mr. Stokes, is it?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"I take it you also understand the procedure of a sexual assault kit?" Nick nodded, swallowing hard. Rape kits, as they were also known, were very intimate. It seemed so unjust to him that a victim should have to endure such humiliation twice in one night, but if they had any chance of making an arrest for this, it was a necessary humiliation.

Doctor March began by asking Sara several questions about her medical history, including her recent sexual activity. Sara answered in a deadpan tone, her expression impassive.  
After this, the doctor placed a paper mat on the floor and asked her patient to disrobe. Sara's clothes would be collected as evidence, as well as any trace fibres that might be found on them. March used her camera to document the rest of Sara's injuries- grazes on both forearms, the bruising casting a shadow over her pale skin. She swabbed the inside of Sara's mouth for a sample of her DNA- Sara had confirmed that there had been no oral assault. She then combed through Sara's hair, collecting any trace evidence as she went. When this was done, she passed Sara a gown and helped her to slip into it, gently placing a hand on her arm and leading her over to the examination bed in the side of the room, next to the chair Nick was seated on.  
He had been trying very hard to keep his gaze on his hands, folded on his lap, and not on Sara. He understood her wish not to be alone, but he wanted his presence to be comforting, not intrusive. He reached for her hand as she laid down, and squeezed it as she wrapped her fingers around his.  
The doctor asked Sara again if she wanted to continue. Sara confirmed that she did, her eyes shut tight. Selena helped her to put her legs in stirrups, and instructed her to let her legs fall to the sides. She raised her camera again, and did a few internal swabs to check for semen, or blood, or anything else the rapist might have left behind. She checked for injury, and Nick noticed that Doctor March was biting her lip as she carried out the exam. It worried him. He returned his glance to Sara's, and realised that she was crying. Silent tears. There was no evidence of anger, or bitter resentment in her emotions, only sadness. This worried Nick even more.

When they were done, the hospital gave Sara some clothes. They'd asked if she wanted to be kept in overnight, but Sara wanted to go home and they were happy enough to discharge her. Her doctor had asked if she wanted to speak to the police, but she wasn't sure yet. She told Selena that she didn't want to speak to anyone she knew with LVPD, and the doctor agreed that it would be too much of an invasion of privacy to expect Sara to disclose to someone she knows.

"I'll make some calls," She promised, as she handed her patient a little plastic cup with pills inside, and a beaker of water. "See if we can't get someone you wouldn't know. Take these pills. They're emergency contraceptives and medication against STDs, okay? I'd like you to come back in a couple of weeks for a blood test and to see how your fractures are healing, but in the meantime-" She pulled a card from her coat pocket. "If you need anything at all, even just to talk, my number's on there. I've also filled out a prescription for Ambien- sleeping pills, in case you want them." She looked at Nick. "You'll take her home?"

"Of course, ma'am. I left my number on Sara's form when we came in, if you need anything from me."

"Okay then. You can go. Take care, Sara. Don't let this pull you under, okay?" Sara murmured her ascent and allowed Nick to pull her to her feet, leaning on him for support. She was emotionally and physically drained, and what little energy she'd had left seemed to have trickled out of her here at the hospital.

"I don't want you to be alone," Nick told her as they made their way back towards his car, having picked up the prescription. "I'm taking you to my place- there's a spare room, you can sleep in there." Sara didn't object. She was pleased that she wouldn't have to go back to her cold, empty apartment. She hated being so vulnerable, but being by herself would be far worse. She would let Nick take care of her, if that was what he wanted to do, because it was what she wanted as well- she was just too afraid to admit it.

* * *

Sara had always liked Nick's apartment. It was nicely decorated, not like a lot of the man-caves she had been to in her time as a CSI.

"You wanna go straight to sleep?" He asked as he boiled some water to make hot drinks. He knew he had some decaf coffee somewhere, and possibly some tea from the last time his sister had come to visit. Sara shook her head.

"I want to shower." She said quietly, leaning against one of the kitchen counters. "Is that okay?"

"Of course." Nick smiled at her. "I'll get you some towels. Will you... I mean do you think you'll need help?" Sara gave him a weak smile in return.

"I think I'll be alright. Just come and check I haven't fallen asleep standing up if I'm not out in a half hour." Nick's smile broadened. It really showed the strength of a person, if in a time like this they were still able to make jokes.

Sara managed to stay awake long enough to scrub herself clean. She wanted to stay in there forever, but she knew from dealing with other rape victims that it didn't matter how long she washed herself, the feeling of being dirty would stay with her anyhow. The water made her cuts burn, but she didn't care at this point.  
Once she was dry and dressed -Nick had leant her one of his overlarge t-shirts and tracksuit pants to sleep in- she shuffled back into the living room. Nick pressed a warm mug of coffee in her hands and led her to the sofa, where she settled herself gratefully into the cushions.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked gently. At first Sara seemed not to have heard him, and it was a while before she uttered a reply.

"I do. And I don't. I'm so used to not talking about things... It's hard." Nick nodded. He knew from his own traumatic experience of sexual abuse as a child how hard it could be to discuss things like this.

"You don't have to talk if you don't want. But I'm always here to listen, if you need it. I do have one question, though, if you don't mind me asking." Sara shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She expected the question to be about who had attacked her, or how she had come to be in a parking lot forty minutes away. Nick saw the worried expression she wore. "Okay, how about I ask the question, and you answer it if you want, and if not I'll shut up instead?" She nodded slowly.

"Yeah, okay."

"Why did you call me? I mean, I'm glad you did, real glad. I'm happy you trusted me enough to come get you, and to stay with you at the hospital. But why me?" Sara was relieved, this wasn't such a bad question after all. She considered for a moment.

"I don't know. I guess it's just... The way you are." Nick raised an eyebrow. "I mean, you're tactful, and kind, and you've always been there for me. I've butted heads with the others, I know, and maybe that's my fault. But you and me, we've always had a good relationship; inside of work and out." She gasped suddenly, and Nick jumped to his feet immediately, rushing to her side.

"Where does it hurt? Tell me, Sara. Do we need to go back to the hospital?" She gave him a weak smile.

"No, no I'm fine. I just thought about work. Won't they wonder where you've been tonight?" Nick visibly relaxed, and sank into the sofa next to his friend.

"Oh, nah it's okay. After you called me I left a message, said I'm sick tonight. Told 'em I had the squirts." He winked at her, and was delighted when Sara actually managed to laugh. "I won't tell them anything, I promise. It was your night off, right?" She nodded, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Yeah. I'm sposed to be back tonight." Nick's expression grew serious.

"Don't even think about it, Sar. I'll cover you tonight, and I think you need a bit of time off after this. You need to recover." She looked like she might argue for a second, but then nodded her ascent.

"How do I explain this to them, though? When I do go back?" She waved a hand to indicate the lacerations on her jaw and over her eyebrow.

"Let me think on it, okay? We could always call Doctor March, she might be able to write you a note that doesn't go into detail but says you need some time off. I mean, that's if you don't want them to know anything." Sara nodded again.

"No, I don't. I don't want anyone to know. _I_ don't even want to know what happened to me tonight, but unfortunately..." Her voice trailed off. Nick took her empty mug from her hands to set it on the coffee table, and gently pulled her closer to him.

"I know, honey. I'm sorry, so sorry that you've been through this. No one deserves this, and especially not you. But you're a fighter, Sara Sidle, and I know for a fact that you'll pull through. Now, do you want to take one of those pills the good doctor prescribed to you? I don't know about you, but I could use some beauty sleep." She grinned at him.

"Yeah, you need it." He smiled back, still amazed at how well Sara was coping. He wondered if she'd be just as okay once the initial shock had worn off, or if that was when things would _really_ get hard.

"You could be right, there. C'mon," He got to his feet, and helped Sara to hers. "Let's get some sleep before the bags under my eyes become shopping carts. He took the majority of her weight as they moved towards the spare room, picking up the sleeping pills on the way. Sara took one, and Nick helped her into bed, breathing in her comforting smell as he did so.

"Will you stay with me for a while? Just until I fall asleep?" She asked, looking away. She seemed so vulnerable still, so far away from her usual self.

"Of course I will. Scoot over." He laid down beside her, and she nestled into him. Shortly, her eyes closed and her breathing became even. She was fast asleep, and Nick carefully extracted himself. He'd have loved to stay cuddled up in case she woke- but he thought that if the first thing she felt when she woke up was the grasp of a man's arms, friend or foe, it might scare her. So he went to his own bed, where he stayed awake long into the night.

* * *

 **A/N: I really liked this chapter. I always seem to like the first chapter, and then not so much the other ones, so I'm hoping that this one will be different.**

 **If you have a minute, please leave a review. I'd love to hear your opinions, or advice on how to improve.**

 **Have a great week!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Sara woke to earthy, inviting smell of freshly-brewed coffee, and the warm sunlight trickling through the gap in the curtains. It took a few moments for the pain to hit, and a few moments more for her to remember why. The few seconds after she had woken, she realised, had probably been the best of her day. She had been any other person roused from their sleep by sunlight and coffee, and now she was back to being a rape victim.  
She stayed where she was as the pain in her ribs took hold again, and the knowledge of her attack grasped her mind with dark tendrils. She was still sleepy -a side effect of the pills she supposed- but she wanted to get up now. She tried to push herself into a sitting position, and pain shot up her side in a fiery wrath. The cry of pain that escaped her lips was involuntary, but it was enough to get Nick's attention. He seemed to be at the doorway instantaneously, a worried look plastered on his soft features.

"Sara? You okay, sweetie?" She could feel the tears prickling her eyelids, and she was ashamed for it.

"I can't sit up." She choked, hurriedly trying to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. "It hurts." Nick moved forward, and inexplicably, Sara flinched. This too had been involuntary, some sort of core reaction that had apparently developed overnight. Nick backed away, looking at her with wide eyes, as if he didn't recognise her.

"I'm sorry," He said at once, coming to a halt and standing as still as stone. "I didn't mean to scare you." Sara shook her head, trying to feign a smile at her friend.

"You didn't. I don't know where that came from." Nick's smile looked equally as strained as her own. "It wasn't you, it was me, I swear." She reached out an arm, and he took the outstretched hand.

"Do you want me to help?" He asked tentatively, inching forward once more. Sara nodded, and forced herself to be still as he lifted her up to a sitting position.

"Thanks, Nick." This time his smile seemed more genuine.

"I made coffee. I'll bring you some, and a pain pill. Might take the edge off, so it'll be easier for you to get up." He fetched her a mug as promised, and watched as she took the tablet. Sara shifted over, and Nick sat next to her, gently draping an arm round her shoulders. She tried to smile again, but it was hollow, and her eyes didn't twinkle as they usually did when she was happy. He didn't know what to do, how to make her feel better, other than to just be there and hope that she might open up at some point.

"Can you pass me my cell? I switched it off last night at the hospital." Nick did as he was asked, and as the phone powered up it started to vibrate with missed calls, voicemails, and texts. The majority were from Catherine. Sara sighed heavily, putting the cell against her ear to listen to one of the messages she had left. "She wanted me to come in," She told Nick, pressing a button to delete the voicemail. "I guess because you called in sick. What am I going to say to her?"

"I don't know," Nick confessed after a moment's thought. "I didn't think about that to be totally honest. And I don't know what to tell them about me covering you tonight either."

"Maybe I should just go in, make something up about last night." She suggested, fiddling with the cell as if she needed to do something to make the conversation feel less tense.

"You can't go into the field like that Sara, and I don't think Catherine would give up questioning you about why you have a dozen stitches in your face. If you really wanna go I won't stop you, but you need to consider whether it'd be too tough on you." She looked as if she was going to make a retort, and he held his hands up as if to surrender. "I know, I know; you're a strong person. But what happened to you is a life-changer, Sara. You don't need to decide right now whether you want anyone at the lab -other than me- knowing about it, but let's pick your battles, decide what you want to do day-by-day at first, before you tackle the big decisions." She looked thoughtful.

"Right now, I think what I want to do is get dressed," Sara said eventually, setting her mug down and grimacing. "I think now the shock has worn off, the pain is worse." Nick watched her as she tried to keep her facial expression neutral, but she couldn't hide every sign. The clenching of her jaw, for instance, and the way she curled her hands into fists were complete giveaways. He knew his friend well enough, after years of working together, to know when she was in a bad way.

"I'll help you," He said softly. "I'll close my eyes, whatever you want, but I don't want you to make things worse by doing too much before you're ready." Sara looked for a moment like she wanted to argue, but when she tried to stand she winced, unable to pass off her cry of pain as anything else. She nodded dejectedly, allowing Nick to help her into the clothes the hospital had given her the night before. He moved round so as not to see anything she wouldn't want him to see, but couldn't miss the awful bruising around her rib cage. She looked pretty terrible; covered in cuts and bruises as she was, and deathly pale with large circles under her doe eyes. Nick imagined that he himself didn't look any less tired- he had been up half the night, after all.

"Smells like antiseptic." Sara murmured as Nick helped her to feed her arms into the sleeves. He nodded, having noticed that himself.

"Maybe we could go to your apartment in a bit, honey. Pick up some stuff that you'll need while you're here." She looked at him in surprise. "What?"

"Oh, it's nothing," She struggled to bend down to put on a sock, sighing in frustration when she realised that it wasn't going to happen. "I just thought..." Nick carefully pushed her down so she was sitting on the side of the bed again, and slipped the sock over her foot.

"You thought I'd want you out of here?" He didn't sound angry -nor even mildly irritated- yet she still looked away, avoiding his gaze.

"Yeah." Nick reached out, lifting her chin so that their eyes met.

"I want you to stay here, Sar.- don't you get that? I'm glad you're here. Besides, this is a new experience for me." His face split into a wide grin. "Usually if a beautiful girl's here, I'm knocking her socks off, not putting them back on!"

* * *

No matter how much he cajoled, Nick wasn't able to get Sara to eat anything. She said she wasn't hungry, that she felt nauseous because of the pain meds, but he suspected that it had less to do with the painkillers and more to do with her ordeal. He wouldn't push her, he decided, not unless he had to. Instead, he fetched her coffee every so often, figuring that it was better than nothing at all. He had taken her to her apartment to pick up some essentials, and they were back at his when her cell rang. She glimpsed at the caller ID before flipping the phone open.

"Hello?" Nick could make out the static noise of a person on the other end of the line. Wanting to give Sara some privacy, Nick scooped up their coffee cups and took them through to the kitchen, checking his watch. He needed to be back at work in nearly three hours, so he opted to take a quick shower while Sara was on the phone.  
Letting the jets wash over him, he turned slowly on the spot, running his hands through his short hair. ' _What a goddamn mess,_ ' He thought, closing his eyes. As a criminalist, he obviously wasn't blind to the statistics. Around 20% of women experience rape or sexual assault in their lifetime, and in the majority of those cases, very few offenders were ever caught- either due to the case not being reported, or failings in the judicial system. Nick knew all of these things, but he had never thought that one of his co-workers, a close friend, could be affected. It just didn't bear thinking about. Only now it _had_ happened, and Nick had no idea of what to do, or how to help.  
It made him feel sick to his stomach, it made him sad, most of all it made him _angry_. The thought made his heartbeat quicken, it made his jaw clench. He was powerless, really, but he was going to hurt the fucker that hurt his friend, and he was going to hurt him _bad._  
He took a few deep, calming breaths. He would not let Sara see him like this; he would not frighten her as he had just a few hours ago. True enough, that had been accidental- she had flinched because he'd moved towards her too quickly, and he would be careful not to make that mistake again. But if he were to lose his temper in front of her, it could destroy the trust that he so badly wanted her to have in him, and he couldn't let that happen. He stepped out of the shower, dressed quickly, and forced neutrality into his expression before he went back to the sitting room. Sara had finished her call now, and was sitting with her knees tucked up to her chest on the sofa, cell still clutched in her hand, deep in thought.

"Sara?" She jumped, but smiled at Nick as he moved towards her. He returned the gesture, sitting down in the armchair opposite.

"That was Doctor March. I, uh, I guess she found someone for me to talk to. Gave me a number so I can call them to set up a time." He nodded, glancing at the notepad he always left on the coffee table, now bearing a phone number.

"Do you want to?" He inadvertently held his breath. Sara had been incredibly brave thus far, but talking to a police officer, a _stranger_ , could be the tip of the iceberg for her. She shrugged, picking at the cuticles of her fingertips.

"I'm not sure. I think so, but," She inhaled deeply, and breathed a shuddery sigh. "I wish this could all just go away."

"I know, sweetie. Sooner we get this over with, sooner you can get on with your life." He knew that had been the wrong thing to say as soon as the words had escaped his lips. Sara flinched as if he had struck her, dark eyes filling with tears that she swiped at irritably. Nick knew that no matter whether she talked to an officer or not, her life would never go on as usual. This would always be hanging over her like a dark cloud in a storm.

"I'm sorry," She whispered, still refusing to let her tears fall. "I don't mean to be a burden." Nick kneeled in front of his friend, taking her hand in his own.

"You are _anything_ but a burden, Sar. I didn't mean to upset you- me and my fat mouth, hm?" His words had coaxed a tiny smile from her lips, and Nick matched it with one of his own.

"Who will analyse the," Her breath hitched in her throat. "The results?" He thought for a moment.

"Maybe another lab; the closest nearby. We'll ask the officers tomorrow if they can have March submit you as a Jane Doe- that way no one need know. Okay?" This seemed to relax Sara a little.

"Okay."

* * *

As soon as he came face to face with Catherine, Nick could tell that she wasn't in a good mood. Her eyes narrowed as they swept over him, and her tone was a little sharp when she spoke.

"I thought you were sick?" He shrugged.

"I got better."

"Isn't it your day off tonight?"

"I'm covering for Sara."

"Why?" He shot back answers to all her questions as if they were playing a verbal tennis match, and Warrick, who had entered the briefing room moments earlier, watched the exchange with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm doing her a favour. Does it matter?" Catherine shook her head in defeat, and turned towards Grissom. He was sifting through the papers in his hands, his brow furrowed in concentration. If he had noticed that Nick was there instead of Sara, he hadn't mentioned it. Nick supposed that he had noticed -it wasn't like him to miss anything- but he was glad that he wasn't being questioned a second time in the space of a few minutes.

"Warrick, you and I have a 419 at Excalibur Hotel- bellboy found dead in a suitcase." Warrick sucked in a breath through his teeth.

"Not much of a tip." He quipped, and Nick smiled.

"Catherine, Nick, a 418. The heiress of a casino tycoon has disappeared. The mother went to her address in Summerlin and found the front door unlocked with signs of a struggle- no ransom note. Start there." Grissom passed a sheet of paper to Catherine. Nick usually enjoyed working with her, but tonight the thought made his stomach lurch. Sara and Catherine, although amicable enough, had never really been close, and Nick got the feeling that the latter was not going to drop her questioning over why Nick was working tonight instead of her.

* * *

Back at Nick's apartment, Sara's head was leaden with thoughts. Recollections of last night buzzed through her mind like a hornet hive, and the silence that surrounded her seemed to press against her ears as though she was being crushed. She drifted around from room to room, unable to settle. She was alone for the first time in almost 24 hours, and the night was still young. She wanted to take a walk around the block to try and clear her thoughts a little, but she was scared. Without Nick there, she was as vulnerable as she had been when her attacker had grabbed her the previous night. She couldn't let herself be that vulnerable again.  
Unnoticed by Nick, Sara had picked up her emergency stash of cigarettes when they had stopped by her apartment. She had quit a long time ago, but occasionally she found that after a difficult day, or a horrible case, the nicotine buzz she got from a cigarette would see her through the night. She felt she needed to smoke one now, and headed to the balcony. There was a deck chair out there, and she lowered herself into it as she shook a marlboro from the packet and lit up, inhaling deeply and watching as the tendrils of smoke curled in the air.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading, and sorry for the wait.**


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